Ida leaned back in the phaeton with the abandon of those who think themselves alone,and sang a snatch from an old English hymn that Van Berg remembered as one his mother had crooned over him when a child.This melody,doubly sacred to him from its associations,would have grated harshly on his ear if it had been sung by Ida Mayhew a week before;but,strange to say,the girlish voice that floated up to him was all the sweeter for thus blending itself with some of his dearest memories.
When the ascent was half made the artist sprang down from his rocky perch,and horse and maiden were so startled that they both stopped instantly.
"Do not be alarmed,"said Van Berg,laughing;"I'm not a very vicious tramp,and am armed with nothing worse than a sketch-book.
If I could only induce you to be an hour in coming up this hill I'd put you and the phaeton in it.I wish it were possible to put the song in,too.Why,Miss Mayhew!Am I an ogre,that I frighten you so?""I was not expecting to see you,"she faltered,deeply vexed that her cheeks would crimson and her hand that held the reins tremble so plainly."You naturally think I have a very guilty conscience to be so frightened,"she added after a second,and regaining a little self-control.
"That quaint old hymn tune did not suggest a guilty conscience,"he said kindly.
"I think I must have heard it at church,"she replied."It's been running in my head all the morning."(He now remembered with sudden pity that no memories of sacred words and song could follow her from her home and childhood.)"But I suppose you think it is strange I can sing at all,Mr.Van Berg,"she continued gravely.
"You must think me very superficial that I do not appear to realize more a crime that makes it exceedingly kind of you even to speak to me,since you know about it.But I have realized the wickedness of that act more bitterly than you can ever know.""Miss Mayhew,I admit that I can't understand you at all.You have become a greater mystery to me than ever.You see,I imitate your truthfulness.""There is no necessity of solving the problem,"she said in a low tone,and averting her face.
"Do you mean,"he asked,flushing slightly,"that my interest is obtrusive and not agreeable to you?""If inspired by curiosity--yes,"and she looked him steadily in the face.
"But if inspired by a genuine and earnest wish to be your friend and to atone for the unpardonable injustice which came about from my not understanding you?""If I believed that,"she said,with something like a smile,"I'd take you with me this morning and reveal all the mystery there is about my poor little self in one brief hour.""How can I prove it?"he asked eagerly.
"Say it,"she answered simply.
"I do say it's true,on my honor,"he replied,giving her his hand.
"You may come,then,on one other condition.I would like you to draw for me a young pear-tree,and an old gentleman sitting under it.""I will agree to any conditions,"he said,springing in by her side.
"Is it the tree that bore the pear you gave me?I hope you don't think I was capable of eating that pear.""Did you throw it away?"she asked,with a shy glance.
"Miss Mayhew,I've something I wish you to see,"and he took out his note-book and showed her the rose-bud he had tossed away."Do you recognize that?"In spite of herself the blood rushed tumultuously into her face.
"I thought that was trampled into dust long ago,"she said in a low tone.
"I shall never forget your words as you left me that evening,Miss Mayhew.It was the severest and most deserved rebuke I ever had.
I picked up the bud immediately,I assure you.""I thought you left it there,"she said,in a still lower tone,and then added hastily:"But I have no doubt you acted from a sense of duty.""I can't say that I did,"he answered,dryly.
"Will you please give it to me?"
"Not unless you compel me to,"and he closed the book and returned it to an inside breast-pocket."I would like to carry it as a talisman against Phariseeism,the most hateful of vices.""Oh,very well,"and she turned away her face again.
"But please tell me about this pear-tree,"he resumed.
"It won't seem to you as it did to me,"she replied,with an embarrassed air,"and I'm sorry I spoke of it,but now that I have I may as well go on.To explain I must go back a little.Mr.
Van Berg,I'm taking you to see the old gentleman who saved me from--from---"Her face was pale enough now.
"My dear Miss Mayhew,don't pain yourself by referring to that.""I must,"she said slowly."By some strange fate you have seen me at my worst,and since you say you care,you shall know the rest.
It may relieve your mind of a fear that I've seen in your face since.I didn't think I'll ever be so wicked and desperate again,and I wish you to know my reasons for thinking so.Well,on that dreadful night the party I was with went into a prayer-meeting,more by the way of frolic than anything else.I did not wish to go in,but,strange as it may seem to you,I was afraid to walk home,and so had to follow my company.Good old Mr.Eltinge spoke to us.He said he knew from his own long experience that there was a Divine Friend who was able and willing to cure every earthly trouble,and he spoke so simply and kindly that he caught my attention and revived my hope.I felt when I entered that place I hadn't a friend in the world or out of it.I was just blind and desperate with shame and discouragement,and--and--but perhaps you have read the letter I gave you?""Miss Mayhew,every word of it is burned into my memory.I scarcely moved after reading it till the morning dawned,and then I went out and walked for hours before I could compose myself and dared to meet any one.As I told you then,so I say again,I had a greater escape than you had.""I'm very,very sorry,"she replied,in a tone of deep regret.
"I too am very,very sorry,but it is for you."She looked up quickly,and saw that his eyes were full of tears.
"I'm not ashamed of them in this instance,Miss Mayhew,"he said,dashing them away.